How to Live With a Neurotic

I think I have a problem. I'm turning to a neurotic twat. Not just a worrier but a totally idiotic, pathologically, doomsday-predicting moron.

I mean, I've always had this 'call when you get there' thing with the kids. You know, those times when you worry because a six hour drive has turned into ten and you haven't had the 'we've arrived safe' text yet?  Usuallyy because the surf on the way is good or they've stopped for a Maccas. I'm like that with everyone who has a 'pattern' in their contact. It's so much worse when your correspondent lives in another country.

When Clare was overseas for 11 months, I only went without contact during a stint on the Inca Trail but I knew she was in good hands and good company.

When I get a phone call from Adam, knowing he's riding his motor bike I'm always sure it's to tell me that he's in traction in some hospital or he needs to be picked up after missing a bend, my heart jumps into my throat. 

I've done it three time with this lovely man in 11 months. He's gone AWOL which usually means falling asleep with his phone off for extended periods and I have a conniption. This particular friend and I, correspond, chat, Skype, frequently, predictably, and pretty much in a pattern, so naturally, I imagined him writhing in pain or dying in a twisted car wreck having some interstate crisis (it happens) or taking off for some decompression time without letting me know despite having promised that he would.

I think I sent about 8 phone texts, rang twice and left messages on his voicemail, hit him up on every email address he has (and there are a few) then finally got a neighbour to make sure he was alright.  Crazy mad woman, found his mate's number and rang another country! For fuck's sake! What was I thinking!

I know it was stupid. Poor guy's still recovering from a stint of night shift and a sleepless weekend and just turned his phone off and slept for 14 hours but I persisted. Now I feel eternally stupid - AGAIN! He's being very forgiving and I got myself into such a state that I bawled myself silly in the shower.

Crazy thing is, I can go weeks without contacting friends who live close. Not because I don't care about them but because I know if anything's wrong, there's a network of people who will let me know. And also, there's no regular pattern of contact so no 'Hey, wonder why Thommo didn't call me tonight?"

Not so with overseas contacts. If he died on the road, who would tell me? If he needed help who would call?  If he was there all alone and unable to move it could be days before anyone found  him. (Er however unlikely that might be).  It's an awful, helpless feeling when someone close is so far away. 
So my bloggy friends, if anything weird happens to you, good or bad, make sure someone has my email. Maybe I can't do anything, maybe I can but close as we seem in this world of interwebs, we are thousands of miles apart.

I'm sure this guy is getting the shits with my neediness when he's not available at the usual time but I just can't help it. Tizz doesn't describe it. Me! Level headed, well organised, laconic, normally shitty friend and phonaphobe to most - Me! Having an absolute 6 hour nervous breakdown because I can't contact someone.  He's right. I'm high maintenance. I hate it but can't control it.

Is that normal?

Don't answer that . . .


Yeh well, at least I know what to buy him for Christmas.

Friday Fuckwith with an AWWWWWW

I'm not sure this one qualifies as a Fuckwit but it's Thanksgiving across the pond. So here's a little feelgood thing that came out of a mix-up. To all my American friends, I wish I could have been there but thankfully, I'm on a diet so saved myself a shit load of calories but ate vicariously with you whilst chewing on a hard boiled egg and an apple. I loves yous all:

An Australian man has enjoyed his first Thanksgiving in the United States with a family he has never met before. James West had been receiving group emails from a family in Florida for three years, but they were intended for a different James West from the US.

After reading some of the emails and looking at the Tran's family photos, curiosity got the better of the young Sydney journalist.

Earlier this week, James decided to confess on YouTube that he was not the real James West, in the hope that they would invite him over for a real Thanksgiving dinner.  "For the first few years I just kind of wrote it off, deleted all of [the emails], I thought it was spam," he says in the video "plea", which was posted on the internet a few days ago.  "This video is to come clean to the Tran family and to say I'm sorry for perving on your Thanksgiving preparations for three years. But it's also a plea to the Tran family to say, can I come to Thanksgiving?"

They said yes, and the Sydneysider headed to West Palm Beach, Florida, for a Thanksgiving under very unusual circumstances.

Fran, who's one of the Trans, (haha Fran Tran!)  'It feels like you're already part of the family'. 

"[It's] one that I'll definitely remember, that's for sure," he said.

And according to the Aussie James West, the real James West is "a champ".  "He's just a regular dude living in Florida, loving the sun, running a surf shop, surfing a whole lot."

Kurrajong

To those who would soothe their shattered nerves, revive their jaded spirits, regain their vibrant health and vigorous appetite, to all who would seek the tonic of pure air and the exhilaration of beautiful scenery, the call of Kurrajong is simply irresistible."
W.S. Arnold Superintendant of Soldier Settlement Scheme

And so on Sunday, thre girlfriends met for lunch on a perfect Spring day with a wonderful view, great conversation fine food at a reasonable price and a little knick-knack exploring. 


Just over half an hour's drive from my place along the approach to the Blue Mountains is Kurrajong. Once a soldier settlement, site of the first exploration across the blue mountains and now a tiny village dotted with cafes and curiosity shops and surrounded by the lush green and emerging purple of exquisite Jacarandas -  we whiled away Sunday afternoon.

Kaz and Avril

The vew from West to East and Jacaranda's blooming inbetween

 

Yep, I did go a bit apeshit with Schparkly things

We loved these mirrors but just a bit exe

Not a fan of antiques but there's always some curiosity

Although I am in need of a new dining table and chairs

 

These just looked pretty - Glad their owners didn't get buried in them

Apologies for the lack of blogging, I'm not feeling much in the mood these days so will post whenever I have something to show and tell, probably more of Paris.  Creative Infanticide is still alive and well and Tenth Daughter of Memory is coming along nicely if you have a competitive edge or who enjoy short fiction, so slip on over whenever you're in the mood.  

Friday Fuckwit

Good evening punters. Another Friday, another weekend. This one's a bit busy since Clare has kind of left home. I hope to get her right out the door by tomorrow. There's a blog post in that. My son has a new throbbing  red hobby . . a Honda CBR and I'm doing lunch on Sunday so next week should have something worth visiting.

In the meantime, for your reading pleasure:

Burger King customer Francisco Perez was handed a receipt with the message ‘Fuck You’ on it. Not once, but twice. Those responsible were grilled – and fired.
The customer didn’t make a whopping order, but that surely doesn’t excuse the rude receipt.
In total, he spent $9.22 on a Double Whopper with cheese, onion rings and a small drink in the outlet in Sacramento, California.

Perez told KCRA 3 TV: ‘I’m embarrassed. It’s humiliating.’
To make matters worse, when the red-faced Perez pointed out the profanity to the worker who gave it to him, he just laughed.  It must have been confusing, because Perez certainly wasn’t aware of any beef that the employee had with him.  Burger King HQ clearly agreed that the message was a flaming insult, because heads rolled without any further ado. 

A spokesman said: ‘Burger King Corp and the franchisee that owns and operates this restaurant deeply regret that this incident occurred. The franchisee has taken immediate corrective action and both the manager and employee are being terminated. The franchisee will be reaching out to the guest directly

Have a good one folks! I'll be going back to work for a little resty poo on Monday.  The clips irreverent and irrelevant but it has that word in it. 

Lily Allen - Fuck You [Official Video] (Non Censuré)
Uploaded by Lily-Allen-Tv. - See the latest featured music videos.

Serenade

It's La Ninia  er Nina year here which means after a long and cold winter (by Antipodean terms), spring has been cool and wet. Over the past couple of weekends, it's been hot and wet which if you're embroiled in a sexual embrace is titillating If  you're trying to sleep . . not so much.


I talk with a couple of Skype friends at night and they've commented on the weird and very loud noise they can pick up on camera. Apparently, and rarely, the culprit is a 'Bleating Tree Frog'. To be precise this 45cm er 4.5cm frog has invited its friends into my Gardenia hedge and is quite frankly deafening. Thanks to hot days, wet afternoons and stormy evenings it's interrupting my Skype activities, keeping my brother awake but frankly, I find it rather soothing. Or perhaps they all go to bed at the same time as me.


So irritated by the background noise, one of my nightly contacts finally found what I could not. A soundbyte of the little buggers. Here's one . . I think I have 50 serenading me tonight. Hey it beats traffic and brawls.  I find it quite calming. I wonder if I kiss one will it turn into a prince?

http://frogsaustralia.net.au/frogs/calls/qt/litoria_dentata.mov

Sculptures By The Sea

I feel a little about sculpture as I do about poetry. Really good sculpture/poetry is a joy, poor sculpture/poetry is a travesty and should be tossed in the ocean. Today, my bestie had to drop her husband off at the airport at some ungodly hour so at 5am, I hitched a ride and once divested of said husband, we headed out to check out Sculptures By the Sea. A month long exhibition on the Bondi to Tamarama Coastline that surprises, shocks, delights and disappoints. It was 36 in the shade and idiot here wore jeans. The cliff walk was lovely, some of the sculpture erm 'interesting' and the sea inviting . . not quite as inviting as the Gin and Tonic I had for lunch. Enjoy:

Bondi Beach at 8am

No idea but what a view

Looking along the cliff walk to Tamarama

Definitely reminds me of someone I know

I think nature's sculptures were hard to beat

A new meaning to 'grazing' at lunch

Leunig Like

Nice view

Life Boy

Gratuitous Hot Bods

Who snapped me sunbathing?

Car Door Fin

Footprints in the Sand

Snail Trail of Bottle Tops

First My Father Died, Then My Horse (seriously thats what it's called)

New Man, New Woman but it looks like he's pashing his cat

Thank you Sydney Water . . we needed it!

The Sky is Falling

So that's where my Rayban's went

Golden Boy

Paint Splodge

Bound Rocks

 And I don't care what anyone says, the sun here is hotter. A day in the French sunshine and I barely glow . . . six hours in Aussie Sunshine, lathered in sunscreen and I'm  looking like a beetroot.

Thank Goodness for the Sun Police

Oh Relax!

Haven't participated for a while so in the absence of a decent post, political angst, human injustice and other worthy causes . . I've decided to 'relax'.

My friend Darragh, its a long flight from Dublin to Paris  DUH

 A lot of walking needs a Nana Nap even if you're not a Nana

 

Sweet surfer Brad prefers a beer and a warm couch

The fiancees relax with a game of Guitar Hero - This is Serious Mum!

Bro-in-Law and there's a nephew relaxing somewhere under the cushions

My idea of relaxing. A deck, a glass, a view - Kiama in March 2010

Three of the Best, The Merry Widow, Thommo and The Teacher relax in Melbourne

Er you could be forgiven for accusing us of being couch potatoes but we do it well!

Now trundle along to Theme Thursday to see how others Relax.

Happy Anniversary and Pass the Prawn Pilaf

It's no secret, I love 'doing lunch' especially with a view, good company and an occasion to celebrate. This week my darling parents-in-law, the cutest octogenarians on the planet celebrated their 60th Wedding Anniversary. I love these people so intensely it's not funny. We've had our heartaches and our fallings out but they are my steadfast friends. What widow do you know of that keeps in touch with their son's parents after 25 years? They are awesome in a blinding, epiphanous way and it was a privilege and an honour to celebrate with them today. Happy Anniversary Bet and Art, you are my lovelies and if anyone is as lucky and as in love as you after 60 years,  they are blessed indeed.  I should be so lucky.

 Touch my chook . . I'll breaka ya face

 

 Foccacia Stack

 

 

Friendly Water Dragon

My Lunch, Prawn Pilaf

 The Bainbridge Side

 I'm so glad I still have a 'busy box'

Cousins

 The 'lovelies' Betty and Arthur . . 80 odd years young and 60 years of marriage.

What Floats? "Churches"

Still being a total slack arse with meaningful posts but a recent conversation on Monty Python and the Holy Grail (really must have another look at that) and well . . what else? Churches!

Sir Bedevere: There are ways of telling whether she is a witch.
Peasant 1: Are there? Oh well, tell us.
Sir Bedevere: Tell me. What do you do with witches?
Peasant 1: Burn them.
Sir Bedevere: And what do you burn, apart from witches?
Peasant 1: More witches.
Peasant 2: Wood.
Sir Bedevere: Good. Now, why do witches burn?
Peasant 3: ...because they're made of... wood?
Sir Bedevere: Good. So how do you tell whether she is made of wood?
Peasant 1: Build a bridge out of her.
Sir Bedevere: But can you not also build bridges out of stone?
Peasant 1: Oh yeah.
Sir Bedevere: Does wood sink in water?
Peasant 1: No, no, it floats!... It floats! Throw her into the pond!
Sir Bedevere: No, no. What else floats in water?
Peasant 1: Bread.
Peasant 2: Apples.
Peasant 3: Very small rocks.
Peasant 1: Cider.
Peasant 2: Gravy.
Peasant 3: Cherries.
Peasant 1: Mud.
Peasant 2: Churches.

 

 St Sepulcre and of course there's a Meridian Line

 

St Sepulcre

 

Chairs for the faithful. First visit they were full of School Children taking Mass

St Chapelle famous for it's stunning stained glass but the main alter was under repair. 

Only one of two time we felt 'ripped off' for not being forwarned

St Chapelle, small but ornate and beautiful, again, so few  looked UP

Notre Dame, the grand lady of Paris

 

Votives at Notre Dame and everywhere else

Loves me a gargoyle, or two . . they look a bit like an old boyfriend

Hunchback of Notre Dame ' It's the bells, the bells'

Sacre Coer, no photos inside

St Jacobus, Toulouse (courtesy of my gorgeous friend Brethred, one that was in the stolen bag)

Not a Church but Tour St Jaques on Rue Sebastapol, my landmark, 

yes all mine, built for me to show me the way, seriously. 

Thank you Brethred, your photos are stunning.

Finally, Duomo Florence. Simply no amateur photo can do this place justice, it's awesome.